The Boy from District One
by chaikitten
Summary: Katniss always knew him as the boy from district one. But he was always so much more than that. This is Marvel's story. Welcome to the Games. And may the odds, be ever in your favor.
1. chapter i the reaping

I feel extraordinary in the strangest way.

Because today, I choose my own fate; in either death or triumph. Because today is Reaping Day. Today is the day that I am going to volunteer to be in the Hunger Games.

I repeat this over and over in my head. I need it to happen. For myself, for my father… because I want to win. I know that I can. I mean, I trained for this my whole life. I'm hardly even nervous. This is what I've been waiting for.

I suddenly get the feeling that someone's watching me. My eyes snap up to see my mother leaning against the doorway. How long has she been standing there? She just looks at me and shakes her head, biting her mouth to hide a sad smile.

"What?" I ask. That's when I notice the tears standing in her eyes. "Oh, come on... mom..." I didn't want her to get like this over something so small. She acts like I'm leaving forever. She's making me change my mind.

She smiles softly and wipes the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry." She's been crying for a while.

I cross my arms a little defensively. "It's only a few weeks. I'm going to come back."

A slight smile forms on her lips, but there is no happiness within her expression. "I know that. But, Marvel…" she walks over to me and places her hand on my shoulder. I know what she's going to say. _You don't have to prove anything._

"You _know_I want to do this," I say as I stand and brush the crumbs off of my shirt. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't. But I do, okay? Anyway, it's just a game, don't take it too seriously." I look into her eyes pleadingly for some sort of reaction, but she just looks down and starts to adjust my tie. My immediate reaction is to pull away but I don't.

"Just come home. Will you do that?" She mutters, her bleary eyes focused on my tie.

"Yes, mom," I groan, sounding like a kid. I watch her for a while as she fixes my tie. Strands of her pale brown hair fall into her face. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her pale green eyes determined. I want to tell her that being in the Games will make me famous. An easy victory.

She suddenly pulls away with a sigh and pats my chest. Her green eyes are glazed. "Okay, you're good to go. Good luck, honey."

"Thanks." Before she can say anything else, I kiss her cheek swiftly and slip out of the room. About halfway down the hall I practically run into my father.

He gives me a broad grin and pats my shoulder vigorously. "Here comes the Victor himself. Ready?"

"Born ready," I say, pummeling the air jokingly.

He laughs. "It's hard to believe it's actually happening."

I shift a little in discomfort. He's referring to last year. I could have... should have volunteered last year too, but I recoiled... but last year I wasn't ready, with Faustus' death and all. How did he expect me to volunteer?

He speaks again, snapping me from my thoughts. "You look good."

I smile in return. "I know, don't I?" For some reason it feels forced. He's wanted this to happen since the day I was born, so I have to come home. It's my only option. At least there's a good chance that might happen– all I've got to do is pick them off… easy. I move my shoulders and walk toward the door. "Let's do this."

"That's what I like to hear." Tycho guides me out of the door with a large hand, and I'm introduced to a white-hot day in District 1, which practically blinds me. "Good day for a Reaping," he beams, squinting under the white sun.

We walk toward the center of our District, where the Reaping is held, and the whole time I'm just playing through the scenario in my mind. What if someone else volunteers before me? A breath whispers in my conscience, but I push it away. That won't happen because I'm not going to let it happen. I'm going to be the quickest when I volunteer; I'm going to walk up there where I belong.

* * *

The Academy. Its motto is offici et gloriae, "of duty and of glory" because dying is such an honor. Coming out as victor even more of an honor.

I'm ready. I've been training there for as long as I can remember, decapitating dummies and practicing hand-to-hand combat. So why do I feel so unprepared? Vesper reaches into the glass bowl and pulls out someone's name. A little boy steps forward with fear in his eyes. _It's his first year._Someone is going to volunteer, though. They always do. It has to be me, this year, though… because Faustus is dead. It's my turn to win. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I volunteer, I volunteer… My throat is getting tight and I see someone else's lips part to say the words, the words which are still hanging on my lips.

"I volunteer," I declare loudly as I step forward. All eyes fall on me, including the boy's, and our eyes meet for just a moment. It's all a blur as I walk toward the podium, but everyone applauds. My stomach turns, but I smile big like I've won something and pump the air. I can't escape their gazes. Pinning me, congratulating me. I can feel people's hands clutching my shoulders, pulling my clothes and giving me meaningless compliments. I step up to the podium and look out at the crowd to see my father gazing at me with a vague emotion etched across his face. I touch the chain around my neck; it is smooth and cool against my fingers despite the sun, despite the heat of the moment and the swift beat of my pulse. It brings me back to reality.

"Your name?" Vesper says, his electric blue hair almost blinding as he pushes the microphone in my face. I wonder why he dyed it such an obnoxious shade of blue.

"Marvel," I say breathlessly, forcing a smile. "It's an honor."

The crowd applauds and Vesper nods. "Very good, very good! I love the enthusiasm. Now for the girls."

As soon as he draws the name, I hear a clear voice from the crowd. "I volunteer to be tribute," she says. I recognize her from the Academy… I've seen her many times, but never talked to her. I barely even remember her. I don't understand why she's volunteering for the Games, but before I have time to question it, she has moved through the applauding crowd and is beside me.

"What is your name?" Vesper asks, extending the microphone toward her.

Her smooth lips draw a sweet smile as she tosses back long blond hair, clear emerald eyes meeting the crowd. "Glimmer; my name is Glimmer." District 1 gives a round of applause, many even whistle.

Right, that was her name. She was the one whose looks got her everywhere. Like a slap in the face, I realize why she volunteered for the Games: because her looks will get her everywhere with the Capitol, too.

Vesper mutters something in her ear with a broad smile. She extends her hand, gaze meeting mine with cold dignity. I stretch my hand to grip her slender fingers; her skin is cold like ice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Marvel and Glimmer: your tributes for the 74th annual Hunger Games!"

It feels like I'm in a dream, but the crowd is cheering and whistling. I'm standing at the podium, caught up in the moment; my thoughts are drowned out by the crowd. I can't contain a smile. It's all very real. Vesper grips my shoulder and says something. Though I'm not paying attention entirely, I know that he wants me to follow him. Glimmer blows one last kiss to District One and we're gone.

* * *

It isn't long before I find myself in a warm, large room. The strong smell of lavender fills my senses, making me dizzy as I wait. I twist my hands nervously. The overwhelming feeling is gone, but it has been replaced with a kind of strange anticipation. I'm going to be in the Hunger Games. It's surreal... but I did it, I did it. That's all that matters. Suddenly, I hear the door open, and I'm prepared to see my parents, but the only one there is Sheen. His light green eyes are wide and before I have time to say anything to him, he runs toward me and latches on.

I'm almost too stunned to speak. "Marvel, I hate you for doing this," he mumbles in a low voice, and then pulls back to look away from me.

I laugh slightly. "I thought you said I was brave."

"No," he admits, his face flushed.

Why is he so scared?

"That's insulting. Have a little faith, Sheen, it's an easy win." I cross my arms behind my neck, stretching comfortably.

"Marvel, listen," he yells, his voice wavering with both fear and frustration. "It's not a joke. I know you want to impress dad but if you _were_'brave' you wouldn't let him force you into this."

I falter, my blood runs cold and I can feel my gaze harden as I stand up. "I'm not doing this because he wants me to. I'm doing this because I want to," I say sharply. But he doesn't understand... he never will, he doesn't get it. But how could he assume something so stupid? I'm not that weak.

The Peacekeeper suddenly arrives. "Time is up."

"Marvel," he begs. His voice breaks. He pulls on my sleeve like a desperate child. Like the stupid child that he is.

"You're done here." I wrench my arm away from him coldly. "Go home."

The Peacekeeper pulls his shirt, but he jerks his shoulder away. His voice breaks as he shouts. "No! Don't do this!"

I relax with anger still tingling in my bones. "See ya' later." As the Peacekeeper pulls him out, the door slams shut and I am alone. It's only then that I notice he has slipped a ring into my pocket, with my name engraved on its smooth surface. The moment I recognize it, a chill passes through me. It falls to the floor without a sound.


	2. chapter ii valediction

He had been optimistic. Not the type of optimism that drove you crazy, but the type that kept you sane. He was sixteen when he died, three years ago. I was only thirteen years old. Sheen's age. But I'm not the older brother that Faustus was. I could rely on him; he was trustworthy. Sheen can't rely on me like that.

A poignant feeling strikes me in the chest… guilt. I heave a sigh and lean forward, burying my face in my hands. How the hell could I have acted that way to him just now? When Faustus decided to volunteer, I didn't want him to go, either. Those months leading up to the Reaping were pure torture for me… I never tried to talk him out of it, but the conversation was kept underneath the surface. We both knew it, but neither of us spoke about it.

I remember the day he announced it to my broad-grinning father. I remember the look in his eyes. There was fear, but beyond that there was the unswerving bravery I always saw. The moment he said it, my heart plummeted and my thirteen-year-old self smiled weakly at him, giving him a thumbs-up and pretending to laugh with him even though my stomach was churning with horror. I had to excuse myself from dinner so that I could be sick and cry my eyes out. When he came into my room later, I pretended to be just fine.

I pick up the silver ring and twist it in my damp fingers. Faustus made it for me. He had worked a part-time job at a jeweler's; I always teased him about it, saying that he was working a girl's job and asking him, sarcastically, what gem matched my eyes best. "Jade," he said, and then pushed me off of him.

He then joked that I was really silver, because I would always be second-best. I remember laughing at that. On my birthday, he gave me the silver ring with my name engraved in it. I guess now that I look back at it, the joke was meant to be condescending. Entirely true, though. So maybe Sheen was right. Maybe I'm doing it to prove myself, just a little. Or maybe I'm doing what Faustus never got to.

I slip the ring on, surprised that it still fit. All of a sudden, the door flies open and the man with electric blue hair flies in, startling me. I am knocked back to reality. I am in the 74th Hunger Games.

"Marvel, there you are," he says crisply. I stand up, confused. "In case you weren't informed, I'm going to be your escort." I study him closely; his artificial, exaggerated features, his satin, tanned skin, his audacious blue hair.

"To the Capitol?" I ask.

"Yes, yes, come; no time to lose! Glimmer is already there. I assume you've said goodbye to everyone?"

I look back up at him, alarmed, and nod. I guess I really have. "Um, yeah, I'm ready to go."

"Very good!"

I follow him as he rushes hastily along, saying something inaudible.

"Huh?" I mutter, cracking a smile.

"Are you ready to meet Cashmere and Gloss?"

How could I forget those names? Cashmere and Gloss: the back-to-back sibling Victors of District 1. They are honored extensively. There is even a day of recognition dedicated to them, the prime examples of what a Victor should be. At the Academy, we had a class studying the techniques of the Careers, and they were featured. I remember watching them on the screen when I was a child, but I've never actually met them. My stomach churns at the thought. The Games once again become starkly real. Not just a part of my past, but a part of right now.

"Yeah?" Vesper prompts. I wonder if he's always this annoying.

"Of course I am," I answer easily, observing my shoes as Vesper rambles about the peculiar way in which Gloss constantly shines his knife on his shirt.

"But they're both so polite. That's why I like District 1; polite, and you know how to have a good time!"

"Hell yeah, we do," I say wryly under my breath, earning a chuckle.

"Plus! This _is_the District of Luxury. Drinks, pastries, silverware, jewelry, perfumes, finery… Does your father own a vineyard by any chance? I sampled this fantastic wine when I arrived."

I nod vacantly, thinking about what my victory in the Games could mean. Fame, fortune, love and respect; I would be a Victor, like Gloss or Cashmere. I would be honored, I would be showered with gold… but what would my absence bring? If I, by some chance, didn't win the Games, what would happen?

"I think that's the wine that I had. Tell him it's incredible."

His crude comment snaps me back to reality. I glance at him, wondering how he could say that. "Sure, I'll tell him when I get home," I mutter blandly. He doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he laughs.

"I over-indulged, actually. I had about six glasses."

As we walk into the train station, we are flooded by reporters, their cameras taut on my every movement. I catch a glimpse of myself on a nearby screen. I seem taken aback by everything. I try to loosen up by smiling at the interviewers as they shoot questions my way. I try to ignore the fact that my heart is beating a million miles a minute.

"Marvel! How do you feel about volunteering for the Games?" a woman says, shoving a microphone into my face.

Overwhelmed. Unprepared. Guilty? No, that can't be right. Excited. Nervous. "Ready." My last thought spurts from my lips, along with a deceptively unruffled, wry smile and a few more waves to the interviewers as we walk.

"Your thoughts on your district partner, Glimmer? Do you have any relationship with her currently?" someone else fires.

Huh? I've seen her kissing other boys behind the Academy… but not me, no, of course not. "Nah, I don't know her," I say with a casual smile. "But I'm sure that I'll have plenty of time." Wait, why did I say that? They're scribbling things down, they're zooming in the lenses on my face...

"That's enough for now!" Vesper laughs, forcing his hand into one of the cameraman's lenses and earning himself a mumbled curse as we board the train. It dawns on me that they sent us in separately just to ask us about one another. "They can't get enough of you, Marvel!" Vesper and I stand in the doorway, and I keep a cheerful smile as I wave and the cameras absorb a few more shots of us before we leave. Finally, the doors close with a cool gust of air and I'm alone. At least I want to be, to think all these things through.

We speed off immediately, and I nearly lose my balance. "Shit," I laugh.

Vesper chuckles. "Speedy, huh? Come on, let's go."

We walk into the dining-cart, where Glimmer is sitting with a young blond man and woman. I recognize their faces effortlessly. They are imprinted in the memories of my childhood.

Cashmere and Gloss.

The two siblings, classically beautiful with blonde hair and blue eyes, both give off a tone of courtesy and coolness as they sit at the table. Gloss stands up and comes over to shake my hand, his grip firm in mine. "You are?"

"Marvel," I answer courteously.

The next thing I know, Cashmere is shaking my hand. She is stunning, mid-twenties, her long blond hair cascading down her shoulders. Even more beautiful than I remembered. But as I look into her cool blue eyes, I see a sort of rigid defense. As if she is trying to block me out. Well, maybe she doesn't want to become too attached to me if she thinks that I'm going to die. Which is rather insulting.

I look back at Vesper, who is already at the table. Glimmer is watching me sharply, sitting next to Cashmere and Gloss, as I take a seat and relax. "I think that you two should go to your rooms and then meet back here in an hour for supper."

* * *

The tribute rooms are extravagant, with our own chambers, fine clothes and a clean marble shower. Vesper leads me into mine and leaves with a smile, telling me to be out in an hour.

At least I'm alone now. I whip off my clothes and collapse onto the bed immediately. It's a lot to take in. I grip the lush down and try to grip onto something concrete. I hear someone knocking on my door. Vesper said an hour, didn't he? Annoyed, I slip on my pants and walk over to the door. In front of me stands Glimmer.

"Glimmer," I greet her with some surprise. Her emerald eyes gloss over my body. I don't know if she's unimpressed or what. Maybe she expected something different. I don't care. She purses her cherry red lips and eyes me some more. I begin to realize that she is looking at me as a piece of prey. "What do you want?" I ask slowly, crossing my arms.

"What's your name again? Marvel?" she says.

She's had to have heard my name several times by now. She's only trying to be condescending. "Um, yeah?"

"Weren't you in my class section? At the Academy?" she says, trying to place me. She won't find me in her memories, though. We've never spoken. "You're the funny guy with the spears. You're good with them?"

"How'd you know?" I smile nonchalantly.

"I just remember is all."

She doesn't seem like a huge threat. But I don't want to speak with her. I won't have to kill her immediately. "You're good… with a bow and arrow?" It isn't true, but I want to see her reaction.

She nods her head, her red lips curling into a tight smile. I can still imagine those red lips pressed against the mouth of my colleagues, their two bodies pushed against the gray wall of the building. "The best in my division."

She's bluffing. Trying to fend off my attacks. It won't work. I smile at her a little offhandedly, and gesture to my bed. "You want to come in? We have an hour..."

She shakes her head in disbelief, eyes daggers as she whips around to leave me laughing.

* * *

It doesn't feel like long before I walk into a room where Gloss, Cashmere, Vesper and Glimmer are waiting. I intentionally avoid looking at Glimmer, but it's not as if she looks at me anyway.

Vesper glances my way. "Ah, fashionably late. I said an hour, didn't I?" I'm about to say something witty but he shakes his head and puts a hand up. "Nevermind, nevermind! It's not important. We're watching the Reaping ceremonies."

I sit down and the lights dim as the Reaping ceremonies take place on a screen before my eyes. Naturally, I'm first. I inspect myself closely. I remember the feeling of bundled nerves, the sweat. But as I watch myself, all I can see is a proud Career tribute, excited for the Games. Confident. Honored. Ready.

Vesper laughs at my fist-pumping to the crowd and gives me a small nudge. I watch Glimmer and I shake each other's hand; we both look cold, but I think I can detect a hint of a smile on Vesper's face as we do so. Suddenly, Gloss nudges me as District Two comes up. "You're going to pair up with these two," he mutters. I watch as District Two enters the screen, and the male tribute lunges forward to volunteer.

I size him up immediately. The confident and eager way he stepped forward is daunting. No regrets.

I imagine fighting him in hand-to-hand combat. He's got strength on his side; although it's hard to judge onscreen, he's about my height. He looks to be my age. But he's got muscle. While I'm more tall and thin, though still athletic, he'd beat me in a fist fight. I watch him as he speaks his name into the microphone, a slight smile on his mouth. Cato.

The girl tribute is dark-haired, which surprises me considering she comes from District Two, where tributes usually are fair-haired. She volunteers with a steely determination on her face. She's small, but the murderous look in her dark eyes makes me think twice about underestimating her.

"Who is she?" Glimmer asks.

"My name is Clove," she answers onscreen.

Everything else is a blur. The only prominent tributes is the cripple from District Ten, and the boy from District Three whose image stabs me with pain when I notice his slight resemblance to my brother. Everyone else, I can take easily. I have the advantage. It fills me with hope when I realize just how easily I could win. Vesper had already popped the champagne by District Eleven; the only threat in District Eleven is the brutish-looking boy named Thresh, but the girl is insignificant. Soon, we're all joking around. Vesper's pretty funny, and we throw jokes back at each other endlessly, until we're al breathless with laughter.

"Really though. I think we've got a good turnout this year," Gloss says seriously, breaking the jokey vibe, as Vesper hands him a glass of champagne. I can't help to notice that he keeps wiping a dagger on his shirt, as if it needed cleaned. Vesper was right about that habit. It was strange… it was as if he thought the knife was permanently covered in blood...

Whatever. I raise my glass with a big, aching smile. "A toast!" The delicate glasses clink and I down the whole glass in one swallow, making Cashmere laugh. A light laugh, like my mother's. I joke around a little more, and can't help laughing as Vesper downs another whole glass of champagne. "Shh, shh. It's District Twelve," I say in mock-seriousness. Of course we don't expect much from them. Of course we are all awestruck as the girl tribute volunteers.

The room falls to a hush.

"Katniss Everdeen, eh?" Gloss says, wiping his knife.

"That'll stir things up with the Capitol," Cashmere mentions, raising her glass to her lips. "No one has ever volunteered from District Twelve before."

"How very exciting!" Vesper chuckles.

I can't help but wave it off. No one cared about District Twelve in the end of things. They were poor, no training whatsoever. "Oh, come on, it's District Twelve. Their only Victor is that drunk guy, whatshisname, oh! Haymitch Abernathy," I snap my fingers as I recall the name and laugh. "Have fun with _him_as a mentor. Good luck, District Twelve."

Laughing, Vesper presses a button; the screen falls black. "Better get your sleep, you two. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow at breakfast. I'll make sure to wake you up bright and early." He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me.

I have just seen all of the faces of the people I must kill, to win for my District, for everything. I sigh and go off to my room. My first night on the train. On the way to the Capitol. On the way to compete in the Hunger Games.

No wonder Faustus killed himself. It's a hell of a lot to take in.

But it's all fun and games. So I decide to play along.


	3. chapter iii illuminate

_"Faustus?" I cry, my voice stuck in my throat. I push open the door to see my brother sprawled on his bed with blood spilling all over his mouth. I let out a sickly cry and fall over. I'm breathing heavily. Crouched on hands and knees. It isn't blood, though, and somehow I know this. It is a syrupy cherry medicine that he drank and drank. It was supposed to relieve pain. Suddenly though, my body twitches and I gag, my head spinning as the smell fills the room. Sweet cherry, sickly sweet, so sweet it makes me faint..."Sorry," he groans. "Marvel..."_

I wake up, heart pounding, to the sound of a loud voice calling my name cheerily. "...Marvel! Get up! Come on! We can't have you lying around all day." There is a pause and I open my eyes slightly to see the door partially open, the pale light streaming through. "Breakfast! Now! You'll need your strength!"

I'll need my strength to make it through the day with him around. But how can I eat? The visceral nightmare has my heart and head pounding, my stomach churning. I groan and roll over to pull the covers over my head again. But I can't even stay still. I tear off the blankets and get up so quickly that my vision sparks. I walk over to the shower, almost running into a wall.

I slide my hand over a switch and a spray of water turns on. Ripping off my clothes, I get into a cascade of freezing cold and pull away, getting goosebumps all over me not only from the temperature.

Overdose. I don't know why he did it, and I still don't, but he did it all right. I've had nightmares about it before, but not in a long time… why are they recurring now? I step into cool water to bring myself back to reality. The nightmare was just as I remembered it. But I now remember just how bad they got. It's as if I were reliving the day that we found Faustus in his room, dead… three years ago, exactly a week before the Reaping. Sometimes I think it's cowardice but… no, Faustus wouldn't do that… never.

* * *

I come to breakfast on time for once, where everyone is waiting for me. "Good morning, Marvel." Cashmere smiles as she sips a cup of pale tea; the strong scent of cinnamon overwhelms me. As I sit down, a girl brings me my own cup and I thank her. Cashmere's blue eyes snap toward me. "You don't have to thank them," she says in a low voice. "They're Avoxes. That's their job."

We learned about Avox people in the Academy, but not much. Only that they've had their tongues cut out; that was their punishment. I had no idea we weren't allowed to thank them. "So we can't talk to them at all?" I ask, lingering on the sweet taste of the cinnamon tea. Way too sweet. "Good God!" I gasp, wrinkling my nose. "Less sugar."

Vesper laughs as I place the cup back in its saucer. "Well, yes, you can give them orders, but you just can't talk to them." Unlike Cashmere, he doesn't speak in a quiet voice. He speaks loudly and slowly, like I'm a stupid child. Well, everyone knows their condition; why would he think I didn't?

"I'm guessing they don't make for much conversation," I joke with a laugh.

"Well, no surprise," Glimmer says bluntly with no amusement in her voice. "They've had their tongues cut out, you know."

"Yeah, I know!" I say with a loud, annoyed laugh. I take a furious gulp of cold water, which makes my teeth ache. She must still be mad at me from yesterday. Well, it's not my fault. If she went around acting like that, then shouldn't she be treated like it? As the Avox girl walks over with toast and oatmeal, I point to the tea. "Less sugar."

Her green eyes snap to me quickly and look away just as fast. She takes the tea away and we are all presented with toast and thick red jam that turns my stomach slightly. I instead look at the oatmeal; rich, hearty oats with wedges of ham. Ham the color of flesh, of tongues... They don't have tongues. I swallow and then rub my jaw, trying not to think about it anymore but wondering what it's like to never speak... how painful it must have been.

"I think we should discuss what our plan is," Cashmere suddenly says. "Like what we want Panem to see, what we plan to do for the interview, and your tactics for the Games. First of all," she takes a spoonful of oatmeal. "I think it's obvious that you're training separately."

"It makes sense that we would," I say, and wait for someone to disagree.

No one does.

"Let's start with the basics." Vesper takes a long swig to finish off his red wine, and gestures for another glass. Whoever drinks at ten in the morning has to be kind of crazy. He clasps his hands. "Glimmer, tell us about yourself."

She looks up, eyes startled.

"Tell us why you volunteered, where you come from. You're going to be doing this during the interview, so might as well prepare yourself."

Glimmer shakes her head. "I don't know what to say… I mean, I volunteered because I wanted to pride my district by winning. But that's all." She rips off a piece of her toast delicately. What a canned, stereotypical answer.

"It's a little cliché," Vesper says politely. "But good, good! Now if you _really_want the audience to eat you up, you've got to have charisma." He looks at her, inspecting. "I already know that you can pull off a sexy angle for your interview; don't you think so, Cashmere?"

Oh, please. I'm tempted to roll my eyes as Glimmer giggles, blushes and Cashmere nods with a slight smile. "That's what I did for my interview. I remember the dress. It was gorgeous… diamond-inspired." Her blue eyes glisten for a moment as she looks back at Glimmer. "But we still have a while before that."

"True, true..." Vesper says, eyes lighting up when his wine arrives.

"So, what's the arena going to be like?" I ask, pushing my food away.

"Well, your imprint on the audience is very important, so we're trying to establish that as soon as we can. So we seem genuine," Gloss speaks up as he butters his toast carefully. Strange obsession with knives. "But yeah, obviously the actual Games matter. That's the whole thing. The arena can be a wasteland or a jungle; it could be cold, or sweltering... whatever the gamemakers decide."

"The arena that I competed in was a dead forest, with rotted leaves everywhere. There wasn't much coverage or places to hide," Cashmere adds on. "The strategy you use is very important. You have to use your surroundings to your advantage."

"And also; don't trust anyone." Gloss glances at Glimmer and I. "That will only earn you a knife in the back."

I wonder if that's from experience, but before I can ask, Vesper gestures to my food and moves aside as Gloss slips past him. "Not hungry?"

"Nah." I drink some more of my water and avoid his questioning eyes. "So; when do we get there?"

"Now," Gloss tells everyone, looking out one of the windows.

My heart tumbles in my chest excitably; Glimmer and I race to the windows to see crowds of Capitol people cheering. They're strange, but this is sort of how I expected them to be: bright colors, feathers, exotic and strange. Their faces are plastic but genuinely excited. Glimmer starts to blow kisses, and people reach out to grab them as if they can, as if they are tangible. I can't help but smile wide and wave as they call my name.

When our train finally comes to a halt, I notice that the crowds are actually being restrained by long lines of ropes and guards are standing in front of those ropes. It doesn't stop the Capitol people from reaching out toward our door. "We're the first one, look at that," Vesper says. Suddenly the door rushes open and I'm met with what seems like a million people and a million flashing cameras.

It's all going by so fast. I smile as we walk on the smooth, glassy floor at the Capitol, being blinded cameras that follow us everywhere.

"Didn't I tell you that you'd like it here?" Vesper beams. "And just in time to meet your prep teams! There they are!" He waves emphatically and I look over to see around eight garish, brightly-dressed Capitol people. Vesper pushes me toward four of them; "Introduce yourself, Marvel! This is your prep team."

I shake all of their hands without a thought; I still am not used to their strange appearances, though. Vesper introduces them to us. Vita is a delicate porcelain-skinned young woman with long candy pink hair and silver swirls marking her eyes. The most off-putting aspect is her outfit; a skin-tight silver dress which makes her look like she's made of metal. Aurelia has a fiery coiffed, tan synthetic skin, high cheekbones and a taut smile. Cornelia is rather round, with very-white teeth, spiked blue hair and dark makeup contrasting with her ghostly-white skin.

I guess Silvius disturbs me the most, however… mostly because his skin resembles a tree's bark.

"These are the most professional prep teams that the Capitol has to offer. They will make you look enticing!" Vesper says excitably, flashing the cameras a bright smile even though he's talking to us. "Off you go!"

Gloss looks at me, tossing his head and suddenly pulling me close, his breath hot on my ear. "The opening ceremonies are what define you to the crowd. This is your image. Control it." He pulls away and pats my shoulder in an awkward way that reminds me somewhat of my father. "Good luck, kid."

It isn't long before I'm being led away by a frightening-looking Silvius. "We're going to make you look fabulous!" he tells me in a heavy Capitol accent.

"So you came straight from District One? What's it like there?" Vita asks me, her voice light. Her face, I notice, is very pixie-like. "You volunteered, right?"

"Yes, he volunteered!" Aurelia snaps in an impatient yet silky voice. "Remember? We watched the Reaping ceremonies."

I shrug, and begin to tell them about District One, throwing in some jokes for good measure. They laugh, and I am suddenly being stripped and washed. I find it a bit unceremonial. They rub on strange-smelling lotions, creams and make sure I'm looking perfect. I pretend to listen as Aurelia tells me about how important appearances are when it comes to gaining sponsors. I can't help but think of Glimmer and how easy it will be for her. But I don't need advice from them about the Games. All they need to do is make me look decent.

"So. I'm curious. Why'd you volunteer?" Cornelia asks as she files my nails.

I pause for a moment, trying to think of why I did it. I wanted to. "Well..." I'm relieved when Silvius suddenly spills a container of liquid on her shoe and the two start bickering.

Finally, I'm finished. And I'm ready to meet Cassia, my stylist. Apparently he's the one who will make the audience like me. So naturally I'm nervous. I take a deep breath and pause when I hear the door open. In steps a woman, which I was not expecting. She's around her thirties, with almond eyes and wispy, spiky black hair. I let out the breath I forgot I was holding and she gives me a warm smile, placing her thin hand into my own. It's quiet for a few moments, and I notice that my prep team has left. "Well." Her voice is soft; breathy. "I'm Cassia. Your stylist." I flinch when she suddenly yanks me to my feet and walks in a circle around me. I'm glad I have a robe now. Not so glad when she slips it off of me.

"Like what you see?" I joke. It's in my nature to make a joke out of everything. But honestly... she's inspecting me, like an animal.

She laughs. "Our prep team did well with you." She pauses and her eyes meet mine again. But why is her hand on my back? She narrows her eyes and a strange smile forms on her lips. I laugh nervously and just stand still as she makes her way around me, hand sliding across my chest. Right. So is this what she's supposed to be doing?

"Now Marvel, I know a lot about you. I know that you volunteered in District One and I know that you've trained for this since you were a child. But what I don't know is how we're going to represent you to the audience. Really, you come across as very confident, witty, enthusiastic; very into the Games. A touch of arrogance, but you're a Career, so it's expected. I like that. I think the audience will, too. You're going to be nervous... so just fake it."

I sigh and pull the robe back on, tying it loosely around my waste. "So what about the costume?"

Her eyes sparkle. "My job is to turn… graphite into diamond. I have something very interesting designed. Something… very classic."

I'm pulled right back to being prepared with makeup and lotions. I'm spray-painted a shimmery silver, wearing a Roman tunic. As I look into the mirror, I don't recognize myself at all. But behind me, I see my prep team's proud faces, stunned with their work. Classic… I can't help but to be impressed. Cassia was right.

"Nervous?" she asks, slipping behind me and looking into the mirror. I'm quivering, my stomach is wavering with anxiety.

"Nervous? What? No. No way," I scoff. I'm ready for this. Vita slides a small slip of paper into my hand and wishes me good luck before I go. On that piece of paper is bold writing, and Gloss' name at the bottom. I read it over and over again as I walk out into the dark starry night, where a million people are waiting for me.

Be unforgettable.

* * *

There's diamonds on our chariot. That's the first thing I notice, and immediately I think of Cassia's words, and the machine in our district that does turn graphite into diamond. By putting enormous amounts of weight on it. I come up to Glimmer and strike a pose. "How do I look? Sexy, right?"

She smiles tightly and tries to hide laughter. "Ridiculous," she hisses.

I can't help but snort, choking down my laughter in all my nervousness. "Hold still!" Vita snaps as she brushes more powder on my face. I look at the horses for a while; strange, long-legged, muscular things. Usually they're in the poorer districts, so I've never seen horses before. Suddenly Glimmer leans over to whisper in my ear, a little close… her warm breath tracing mine sweetly. "Don't look now, but District Two is coming."

I turn around to see the two District Two tributes dressed in Roman gladiator costumes, shimmering gold. The strong, monstrous boy that I remember onscreen comes up and smiles at us. The dark-haired girl is at his side, her mouth a hard line.

"Nice costumes," I say, returning his smile as I shake hands with both of them. "So… we're an Alliance, I guess?"

"Guess so," Cato laughs, looking away for a moment and then back again. "You're Marvel?"

"Yup," I crack another witty smile and then notice his dark blue eyes flicker at Glimmer; their eyes meet instantly and it's not hard to notice something spark between them like a hot flash of lightning. It makes me a little uneasy.

"And?" he says, a little more quietly. "What's your name?"

"Glimmer." She gives him a small smile, and their eyes don't break until the other tribute cuts through.

"Clove." The girl shakes hands gruffly with both me and Glimmer. Her eyes are even darker than I remember them to be. She's small… but I need this girl on my side.

A few more moments pass, and I sigh briskly. "Well, I guess we'll see each other later then, huh?" I force another laugh.

"See you later," Clove says flatly.

Cato and Clove leave, and I'm alone again with Glimmer. I wait until they're out of hearing distance before I nudge Glimmer's arm a little awkwardly. "So… what do you think of them?" She doesn't answer. "They're probably asking each other the same thing. So I figured we'd do it too."

Then again, they probably actually know each other...

"I think," she sighs and smooths out her hair. "We're lucky to have them with us in the arena. They can be of use."

"So… nothing else to say?"

"No?..."

"About Cato?"

"What?" She looks at me, eyes narrowed but completely defenseless as I smile at her, biting my lip mischievously. "Oh, come on, you don't think I…" I'm surprised when she pushes my arm roughly in mock anger. "You're such an idiot. Let's go."

We climb on top of the shimmering chariot and my heart is caught in my throat. Suddenly the man lets go off the pair of snowy white horses and we're jerked forward. Glimmer touches my arm for balance but I pretend not to notice.

All I can hear is the galloping off the horses before we're suddenly whisked into a world where nothing exists except for the cheering of the crowd. And us. Once again we're waving, blowing kisses, my heart beating fast. I catch a glimpse of us onscreen and we look dazzling, gleaming silver like diamonds. For some reason Glimmer is still holding onto my arm but I decide that it's all a part of it. I'm taken in by the crowd.

Me; they're calling for me.

But as the other Districts go past I notice something different. District Twelve. They're suddenly calling for that girl… Katniss. What's so special about?... oh. She's on fire. At first it sparks some amusement in me, and I nudge Glimmer and, still smiling, I toss my head behind us. Glimmer's jaw clenches but she still maintains a mechanical smile.

But underneath it there is unquestionable fury. "What the hell do they think they're doing?" she murmurs through a flurry of kisses to the crowd. I have no time to answer because we suddenly jerk to a halt and President Snow gives his speech. But I can't get my mind off of it. Because District Twelve was not supposed to shine tonight. And I will have to make sure to put out their flames.

* * *

"Did you see the fire?" Glimmer exclaims angrily as we step into our new dining room. "Did you?"

"District Twelve," Vesper says, shaking his head. "I knew she would be trouble! I have intuition about these things. Strange, though, since District Twelve usually doesn't make all that much of a statement. They must have had a new stylist."

"Something about her I don't like," Cashmere agreed, sighing as we were brought our dinner; glazed ham and redskin potatoes, along with a bottle of dark wine that reminds me of home. "I don't know what it is exactly… but she's not like other tributes from District Twelve. I just don't know what it is about her."

"I don't know," I sigh. "But I don't think it's that big of a deal. I mean, like I said, it's just District Twelve. They've got their comical drunk Victor and that's about it."

Glimmer looks at me for a moment. "Don't you think she's at least a bit of a threat? You saw how the crowd cheered for her stupid costume."

I shrug, twisting the wine glass in my fingers. "Nah." I hold up the glass. "Now how about cheers… to a successful first night." We all clink glasses, even Glimmer, who finally seems to have given up on the argument, and take long sips of the dark liquid.

"So, what else?" Gloss asks. "Did you get the chance to talk to the District Two tributes? Cato and Clove?"

I can't help but glance and Glimmer, and I think that she's even blushing a little. I can't help but laugh out loud when I notice that Vesper is looking at me and smiling as if he wants in on our private joke. "What? What is it? Something happen? Do tell."

"We met them," I say insolently, eyebrows raised, looking down while taking another sip of the wine. "Let's just say that Glimmer found Cato especially… impressing."

"Okay, Marvel! Stop," she growls at me, banging her hand on the table. I like making her mad… not that I'll be the first to admit it, but she's pretty cute when she's annoyed.

Vesper laughs loudly. Cashmere and Gloss do not.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Cashmere says with feigned amusement. "Just keep in mind, Glimmer, that they are not your friends. They are your alliances. It isn't the same thing. That's crucial in the arena."

"I know!" Glimmer casts a sharp look at me. "Marvel just keeps acting like I've got this huge thing for Cato, but I don't. I don't. Do you know why I looked at him that way, Marvel? Do you?"

"Yeah," I tease. "Because you _like_ him. _Like_him, like him."

"No," she corrects me with a sarcastic smile. "Because I'm playing up my looks. How far do you think he'll go to protect me in the arena?"

I almost choke on my drink. So she's planning on deceiving him with her beauty? I laugh a little harshly and blow it off. "Oh, and is that your only weapon? Are you going to go around wooing people into not killing you? Tell me how that works out, Glimmer."

Vesper chuckles with me, but Cashmere is like ice. "Actually, that's a very wise tactic, Glimmer. Play up your strengths if you think you can use him. All men have a weakness for beauty." Something flashes in her blue eyes and she looks down for a few silent moments, tipping her empty wine glass between in her fingers.

Gloss clears his throat and breaks the silence. "Well, it's late. I'm heading off. First day of training tomorrow, Marvel. You're going to need your sleep and I suggest you get all of it that you can." He rises and leaves the table.

"I'm off, too," Cashmere says, following him.

I'm left with Vesper and Glimmer. We talk for about an hour about what tomorrow will bring, and he tells one last corny joke before he goes to sleep as well. That leaves Glimmer and I, and one last bottle of wine. I look dizzily at the Avox girl and hand it to her. "Something stronger."

Glimmer's green eyes flash toward me. "So."

"So." I sigh and lean back in my chair. "How about Vesper?" I take up an empty bottle of wine and pretend to chug it.

She laughs, and I let a few moments pass She takes a tentative bite of her dessert, which is merely a bowl of fruit. Apparently we aren't allowed to have dessert like the kids from the poorer districts are. One more thing that Glimmer wants to take away from Katniss.

"Are you still mad about the whole District Twelve thing?" I ask, watching as the Avox gives us a few bottles of "something stronger." I have no idea what it is, but it's a sharp-scented, dark blue liquid that I've never seen before. I take a long swallow and hand a bottle to Glimmer, who drinks just as much as me. We both nearly choke, it's so sharp.

"I'm just…" she looks away for a moment, and then back at me with taut lips. "Nervous." Her eyes flit away from me for many moments before she looks back once again. "Do… you know what I said to my family before I volunteered? I said that I wouldn't fail. And I can't lose to…" her voice lowers with anger. "To someone from District Twelve." She takes another swig. "I can't lose to anyone."

Wow… she's really opening up to me. Surprised, head spinning, my tongue is loose and my words come without any thought… and so I say something I never wanted to say. "Not even to me?"

Our eyes stay glued. We're enemies, too. It's better that we're strangers in a way. But I guess I still wouldn't want to kill her. And I guess she doesn't really want to kill me, either.

"No," she whispers, her voice shaking as she peers at my pale green eyes. "Not even to you, Marvel." It's then that I notice that tears start running down her cheeks. It's odd, because she's usually so calm and dignified, the daughter of a distinguished man in District One. But tonight she's just another girl I'll never really get to know.

For some reason I want to make her feel better, even though I might have to kill her in the end. Maybe because there's a chance that she has someone at home who really hopes that she can win. But I don't feel sympathetic; no, of course not… just full of pity. Yeah, pity… because sympathy comes from relating to the person. Pity is feeling bad for something hopeless.

"Don't be silly," I slur, leaning in a little. "We're from District One and we've got a better chance at winning than… than anyone else. That's what my father said, you know. And it's true. It's true."

She suddenly pitches toward me and her lips press against mine in a slow, soft kiss that I'm totally unprepared for.

My lips tremble, I close my eyes, my stomach feels warm, as if it's alit by fireflies. Glimmer is kissing me. She's kissing me. Why is she kissing me? Warmth and iciness sends chills up and down my spine. She pulls away abruptly and we stare at each other for a few moments. Her eyes are huge and bewildered. "Excuse me," she suddenly mutters as she pushes past me and hurries off.

* * *

She kissed me.

It's midnight and I'm still trying to convince myself that it didn't mean anything.

I pull the covers off of me before going over to the sink and looking in the mirror. I lean on the marble, both sweaty hands spread and slippery on the surface. In front of me stands someone I don't recognize. My tan hair darkened with sweat, my face flushed. My eyes flickering back at me like I've seen a ghost.


	4. chapter iv dizzy

I wake to a splintering headache and a cottony mouth. Without thinking, I get up. I don't remember much but somehow I collapsed onto the side of my bed, half on and half off. My mouth also tastes sour. I walk into the bathroom and recall blurry images of the event. The smudge on the mirror. I rub my eyes and get a glass of sink water, downing it quickly. But my mouth is like a sponge and my tongue is dry no matter what. I've had alcohol before. Maybe not that strong, but… My head spins and this time I turn and fall to vomit into the shower.

"Marvel!"

I spit and heave myself to my feet. What does he want? What could he possibly want? I stagger to the door and pull it open. The moment Vesper sees me, his jaw actually drops. I must look awful. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair. Plus, there's the fact that I must smell like alcohol and vomit. Yet I manage to lean against the door casually with a calm expression.

Vesper gapes like a fish and stutters for a few moments, at loss of what to say. "What happened to you? Did you get sick?" He pauses and then scans me again. "Were you… drinking?"

I press my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as a splintering pain presses through my head. "Yeah… I don't know what else to say."

"Well neither do I!" He's suddenly storming past me, into the room. "Marvel, I enjoy a good glass of wine once in a while, but..."

_A good glass of wine? You had like, six bottles last night._I lurch after him. "Do you have any pills I could take? My head is killing me."

He comes out looking rather appalled. "And the night before your first day of training… Gloss is not going to be pleased with you!"

Damnit. I shake my head irritably. "We do this all the time… at home. Just with stuff that's not as… strong."

"Well, I don't know what to think right now." I look at him and see that there's frustration in his gaze. "Clean up." He throws me a towel and I barely catch it, but I follow him to the doorway as he leaves.

I pause and stagger backward, my back pressing against the corner of a wall. Everything was fun and games back home. I've had wild parties where I've felt like this afterward, and I'm sure Glimmer has gone to just as many. In District One, we have everything except self-control.

I sigh and step underneath cold water in the shower, rinsing away everything. One question is still on my mind. Glimmer… why did she kiss me? I try to think about what happened before it. Nothing, really. It had to be because of all the drinking and the tension. That was the only excuse. That was _my_only excuse.

All I can do now is forget about it. I have other things to focus on. I put on clean clothes and brush my teeth hastily to wash the sour taste out of my mouth. I don't know what to expect at breakfast, but it's surprisingly normal. Only Glimmer is not there. There's Cashmere, Gloss, and Vesper. And all three are trying not to look at me.

Gloss suddenly breaks the awkward silence that's hanging all around us. "So you had fun last night?"

I can't help but smile as I pull in a seat next to him. I don't understand why he's not angry… it's really kind of strange. And then I wonder if he's referring to the alcohol. I really hope that he isn't. "You could say that." I pause for just a moment. "Where's Glimmer?"

"She has a headache," Cashmere answers with a shrug as the Avox comes over with red pepper omelets and frothy chocolate concoctions. My stomach turns and I breathe deeply to overcome the sudden wave of nausea. "Do you feel alright?" But she doesn't make me feel any better by getting out some thick butter to spread on her toast. It practically makes me gag.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I lie, sitting back against my seat as my skin prickles. My raspy voice doesn't do anything to help me. "Just a rough morning is all. So; what's the plan for today?"

I keep taking small sips of the cold water. Too much and it makes me feel nauseous, but not enough and my mouth still feels like cotton. My head throbs with pain. I close my eyes for just a moment. Everything is just too bright.

"Marvel, are you sure that you're okay?"

No. I'm not sure. I feel shaky, and hollow. "I told you, I'm fine." I smile. "Just a little tired for yesterday. Being adored by masses of people is tiring." I take a long gulp of the frothy cold drink. I try to concentrate on what it tastes like. Vanilla, rich mocha, cream. I'm going to puke. I wipe my mouth with a napkin and realize that Gloss is staring at me.

He has slipped something small and smooth into I slip my hand, under the table. As I roll it around in between my fingers, I know it's a pill. I raise my eyebrows at him but he looks away and clears his throat, sparking up a conversation with Vesper about our training. I drop my fork purposely and lean under the table to take the pill. I feel a sudden relief. Of course he understands. He's from the same district as me. But why isn't he mad?

I wait until after breakfast to talk to him. Glimmer was a no-show. As soon as everyone leaves, we stand together off the side and watch the Avox girl clean up the table. "Why aren't you upset with me?" I ask.

Gloss simply laughs, his voice alarmingly cold. "Hey, kid, I'm not responsible for how seriously you take the Games."

His words send a wave of iciness up my spine. It's almost as if he couldn't care less about if I live or die. So what about the pill? Why did he even have those pills? And what kind of mentor doesn't give a damn about the tribute that they're supposed to be training? I just shake my head disbelievingly. Gloss is suddenly put in a whole new light. He doesn't care at all about me. Whether I live or die is not up to him… I look at him; his blue eyes. The note.

Suddenly, my blood is boiling. "What the hell do you mean you're not responsible? You're my mentor! It's your job to be responsible. And you're saying that I'm not taking this seriously?"

Gloss's blue eyes shimmer like ice. "No, you are not taking this seriously. And you're misjudging me."

I can't believe him! Who is he to judge me on this?

"I've been training for this my whole life."

"And how is what you did last night going to help you?" He looks at me with fury in his eyes. "Look, I know that in District One we tend to blow everything off, but you can't do that here. That's almost what I did, okay? I'm trying to stop you from making the same mistake. It's not something to blow off."

"I'm not blowing it off," I snap. "The only reason I did that last night was because I could. It's not like I'm focusing completely on that!"

"But is that what you call taking it seriously?" Gloss says, his voice like poison. "Getting drunk and then expecting to be ready to begin training? If you had taken it seriously you would have gotten some rest."

"Look, do you really think a few extra days of training are going to help me all that much? I'm ready."

"You're overconfident," Gloss turns and begins to leave. "And that's just what's going to get you killed."

Then he's gone.


	5. chapter v toy soldiers

I decide to be completely serious during training. It's not like I wasn't before... but there were just too many late nights drinking, and I was too lighthearted, constantly throwing out jokes. I should have been focusing on the training, because with each day the Games creep closer. Still, it's not like I'm unprepared. His words still ring in my head as I sit on my bed and wait for ten. I'm not nervous at all; I know who I'm up against and I know what to do in the training room.

The only thing is… Glimmer. Why can't I get my mind off of her? It's not like she means anything... but I can't get her out of my head. I wonder what she's going to do. Use her bow and arrow? Unlikely, since she can't shoot straight. I know that she's my rival, but I still feel sorry for her because she has nothing going for her, no way to survive. Except Cato. But he's so cutthroat that I doubt he will play along with her game.

I sort of feel bad for her.

But I can't. Because the moment I start feeling sorry is the moment I start to play down our competition. I need to be hard. I need to harden myself for the Games, because I need to win and everyone– including Glimmer –needs to die.

"So what's your strategy?" I remember Aurelia asking me. Yesterday I had said, "I don't know yet… do whatever it takes to win." But it's not that simple. I need a plan. Suddenly I know what it is: to act joking and lighthearted, but to be a complete killer during the Games. No one will expect it. Not even Glimmer. Because in the past few days, she has become less and less to me. Colleague. Fellow tribute. Acquaintance. Opponent. Prey.

* * *

I wait on the elevator with Vesper and Glimmer without making a sound. Although the training rooms are below ground, it takes a very short amount of time to reach them. "Good luck," Vesper says as the doors open and we are met with a gigantic gray gymnasium, filled with obstacle courses and stations. We're early, as are some other tributes that are standing in a taut circle, their district numbers pinned to cloth on their backs.

Someone pins a 1 on mine and I come over to meet Cato and Clove. We don't talk, but instead stand there as other tributes file in and wait until the last tributes come through the door. Naturally, Katniss and Peeta. And they are the only ones dressed exactly the same. I can tell that it sort of interests Cato and Clove, because they share an amused glance with one another. Clearly it just pisses Glimmer off. She crosses her arms and looks away.

The head trainer, a tall muscular woman named Atala, steps forward and begins to explain our training schedule for the next three days. How experts of each skill will remain at their stations. We may travel from station to station, according to our mentor's instructions: some will teach survival skills while others fighting techniques. We may not engage in hand-to-hand combat with any other tribute. I look around the circle to see that everyone is completely engaged in the conversation. I know all of this already; all the Careers do.

It's just like the Academy for us. But for the other tributes, with their desperate eyes and thin bodies, it's their only opportunity. She begins to read down a list of stations, and I begin to observe Katniss from the corner of my eye. She seems only slightly healthier than the other tributes from poorer districts, and compared to me, she's nothing. She's nothing. It doesn't matter how much the crowd liked her because in the arena, it's her and the rest of us.

Finally, Atala releases us. Cato nudges my arm and we follow him to the station which contains lethal weapons: knives, swords, maces, axes. Every weapon imaginable. It reminds me of the Academy and I notice that all four of us are deft with handling these weapons, even Glimmer. Suddenly Clove is by my side. "Do you have one that you're good at?" Her eyes scan rows of glossy knives.

"Not gonna lie, I'm a beast with spears," I tell her, pointing toward the station. I look over to see that Cato and Glimmer had left. Cato is trying to daunt his competitors by slashing a manikin with a heavy sword, while Glimmer is throwing knives. She manages to look somewhat threatening. Really, she is deft compared to all of the other tributes, who have never held a weapon before in their lives. Maybe she has a chance. All the more reason to keep an eye on her.

An easy smirk falls across Clove's mouth while she watches Katniss and Peeta, who are at the knot-tying station, and laughs. "Well I'm going to go see if I can go do some hand-to-hand combat." She turns and walks off as I decide where to go.

I clear the stations easily; I bound through the agility stations, ace spear-throwing and find out that I have a knack for knife-throwing as well. At the end of it all, I'm barely tired. When it's time to eat lunch, the other Careers and I gather boisterously among our own table. We try to throw off the other tributes by joking rowdily with each other and acting unafraid; like everyone else is already dead to us. I tire myself out joke after joke; everyone cracks up. I only think it's funny because we barely know each other. Suddenly someone else, among the scattered tributes, gives a few laughs. Katniss and Peeta.

I ignore it. Throughout the day, I choose to focus on nothing but my training. Sometimes I peer up at the gamemakers. Sometimes I find one of them looking at me and I throw my knife with even more diligence. They're dressed in purple robes, taking down notes of us as we train. I hope they take note that every knife that I throw goes through the heart of the dummy. Dead center. I make sure to throw the last one through the neck and I see the District Ten girl watching me with fearful eyes. I glance at her and see her look away very quickly.

Suddenly, Cato grabs my shoulder and points toward Thresh, who is waiting in line for weightlifting. "I want him with us."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Why?"

"Just watch."

So I do. And Thresh is as physically powerful as any of us, even if he is less experienced with weapons. He is a monster, with muscles that are as elastic and hard as a steel cable. He throws a heavy weight with as much ease as if he were lifting a chair. "Alright, alright. I get it. What do you think we should do?"

"Convince him to join us, like I did with the District Four girl." Cato pulls away from me and we wait until Thresh is done at the weightlifting station so that we can walk over to him. He looks up at us. I don't know how Cato wants to approach this. "So." He stops in front of him. "Thresh. You want to join our alliance?"

Blunt. Just brushing on disrespect. Thresh stares at us silently, his mouth in a hard line. And then he turns and just walks away.

"I'll take that as a no," I mutter.

Cato scoffs angrily, and I wonder if he now has it out for him.

When Glimmer and I return to the Training Center, we don't speak at all. Maybe she came to the same conclusion as me. But Gloss doesn't talk to me either; at least not a lot. He'll ask me stiffly how the day went, and I'll answer with an equally rigid answer. Vesper doesn't joke around as much anymore.

On the second day, we meet with Cato and Clove again; I go to the knife-throwing station with Clove and the specialist trainer shows us some new ways to throw. Clove seems very absorbed. When we are allowed to throw on our own, I notice that she hits every target without even trying. "So," she says. "Have you known Glimmer for long?"

I watch as she hits one after the other. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "No. We've never really talked before this."

"Never would've guessed," she says, stepping aside so that I can try throwing. _What does she mean...?_I take six knives and carefully focus on the target. It's a lot like spear-throwing, but since the knives are smaller, they go less of a distance. I hit the first two on target. "I thought you two were friends."

The third knife misses the center altogether as I remember the sharp taste of alcohol on her lips... "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. The way she looks at you, the way she laughs at your jokes."

I shrug, focusing on my target again. She thinks Glimmer and I go way back? I give a small smile, trying to toss it aside even though it's still in my mind. "Everyone laughs at my jokes. Even me. I'm hilarious."

"So you're not friends though?"

"What? Oh. Nope." I hit the next two on target. "Have you known Cato for a long time?"

She doesn't answer; only offers a nod and watches as my next knife hits the center. "You're good with knives."

I look over at her and smile a little. Coming from someone who hit all six on target, it meant a lot. But maybe she was just doing it to change the topic. It was hard talking about them when they were both our rivals and our allies. We walk over to where they are standing, watching as the District Three girl runs on the gauntlets. All of a sudden, she falls, grasping her bleeding knee. Some tributes take notice, looking over at her nervously; Cato and Glimmer begin to laugh. I join in even though I don't find humor in it. It's all for show. But it's harder to pretend when I see the District Three boy rush over and attempt to help her. It's hard to laugh at something so hopelessly pathetic.

I watch the District Three boy more throughout the day. After lunch, he works with a trainer at one of the survival stations to create a fire, and quickly backs away when it ignites. I get a hollow feeling in my chest; he's so much like Sheen. But I need to be hard. I can't think of anything except winning from now on. Yet I decide to pay more attention to my competition, even though each and every one of them don't stand a chance against me and it's kind of easy to relax.

The District Six girl learns to shoot a bow and arrow, and proves to be adept at it. I watch the District Eight boy scale the jungle gym and suddenly fall, grabbing his leg in pain. I look over at Cato while we are waiting in line, and he watches him warily. I guess that he's thinking that District Eight is using a strategy to make himself look weak. Maybe he's right.

Later, the District Six boy, Jason, gets in a fight with Cato. I watch the two cause a scene; Cato yells, shoving the other boy. After Cato nearly pummels the other boy, the trainers manage to separate them. Cato gives him one last spiteful glance and walks off. As Cato comes over to the rest of us, he says nothing but his eyes are dark with wrath.

"What happened?" Clove asks him.

"He stole my knife," Cato gives an animalistic growl. "He's the first one I kill. Little bastard." He wipes the spit off his mouth and stalks away. You can tell that he means it, and it's a given that he'll target Six in the arena. Sword swung over his shoulder, he goes back to training furiously. He slices the dummy into sections, stabbing it right in the heart with one skillful motion.

"He's pissed." Clove glances at me, her lips drawn into a sweet, sarcastic smirk. "You're not scared of him, are you?"

Is she mocking me? Trying to make me look weak in front of everyone? I look at Cato. The sharp cut of his muscles, his raw intensity. He plunges the sword into the target. "No," I laugh. "But District Six had better be!"

On the third day, it's time for our private training sessions with the gamemakers. They will call us out during lunch. I notice Cato staring at Katniss throughout the entire day. At the beginning of lunch, I push his shoulder teasingly if a little hesitantly. "Cato, give yourself a break. You've been staring at Katniss all day."

"He thinks she has a chance," Clove interrupts, crossing her arms over her chance and glancing at him, giving a few harsh laughs. "She's a _joke,_Cato."

"I just think we should watch out," he says. "I'm not about to lose to someone from District Twelve."

I shrug, and Glimmer nods. "And what about Peeta?"

We had watched him during the first day like he was a piece of meat. But then he proved his strength. Cato nods. "Peeta's strong. But he's not much."

"Neither of them are," I say. "Even if the audience liked the way their stylists did them up, it's not going to help them anymore." Then I'm called.

I don't know what to expect in the gymnasium, but I'm met with the gamemakers dining and enjoying glasses of wine. As soon as I walk in, I'm intimidated. All their eyes fell instantly on me. Intent. Hungry. I'm serious for a moment, but I relax my tense shoulders. I don't need to worry. They like District One. We're a favorite with the Capitol.

Human figures. Weapons. I look through them, taking my time, and choose a pack of perfectly crafted metal spears. I twirl one easily in my hand, showing off a bit. All of them are focused entirely on me as I grab the cool metal spear and throw it perfectly in the center. One, two, three times. For each shot I earn a round of applause. On the fourth spear, I miss the target completely. Well, shit. I turn and see that some of the gamemakers are murmuring to each other.

I suddenly call up to them: "Have you tried the wine? It's my father's." I have to make sure not to lose them.

Some of them laugh, a bit taken aback but obviously fascinated. It was a bit of an unconventional move, but at least I have their attention again. "Yes, the wine is good. Continue," one of them calls back lightly. Thank God. I take my fifth spear and hit it a bit off-center, but the sixth one is perfect. I give a thumbs-up to the gamemakers and some chuckle. One even raises up a glass of wine to me before taking a swig. "You are dismissed."

* * *

Back at the Training Center, we wait eagerly for our scores. Through the courses of our dinner, Cashmere asks us what we did. Glimmer boasts that she used not only bow and arrow, but also knives. "How about you, Marvel?"

I pause. "I threw spears. I also asked them how their dinner was."

Vesper laughs. "You what? Why?"

I shrug and stare down at my plate. "Because one of the spears missed the target and they starting whispering. So I asked them how their food was, to get their attention again. That's all. They laughed about it."

"They weren't offended?"

"Not at all. I think I scored well."

"Well, I'm glad you humored them a little." Vesper wipes his mouth with a napkin and the rest of the courses fly by through idle chat about things that I couldn't care less about. I just want to see the training scores. They will be televised tonight onscreen. It's prearranged that the Career tributes get high scores, but really it depends what odds I'm given and how well they liked me. And how well I did compared to everyone else. Finally, we go to the sitting room to see the scores. My heart is pounding when they show my picture, and then flash the number beneath it. 9. I score a 9. So does Glimmer. Vesper toasts to our good scores. Nine out of twelve. A small flash of happiness bursts in my chest. But something else tells me I didn't do well enough.

Because I didn't score higher than Glimmer.

I glance at her. She is smirking to herself, eyes and chin lowered, with a glass of wine pressed to her lips. I shake it off uneasily and look back at the screen. Cato scores higher than me. At first I'm annoyed, but then I think of him slashing through the dummies with his sword and I guess he deserved that score. I guess.

Everyone else averages about a score of 5. I flinch slightly when the District Three boy is given the unpromising odds of 22-1.

The District Seven female has 7-1 odds, same as Glimmer.

The District Four female is given 9-1 odds, which are impressive. She even manages to outdo Thresh, whose odds are 11-1. I'm relieved by the fact that Cato has already let her into her alliance. Maybe she's worth more than Thresh after all.

The District Eight male's odds are equal to Cato's: 3-1. Better than me, Glimmer, and Clove. I flinch involuntarily. The little girl, Rue, scores a 7. But the most surprising thing is toward the end, when District Twelve flashes on the screen.

Below Katniss is a towering 11. The highest score of all.

Alarm cuts through me like a knife, and I stand up immediately. But I barely have time to move before Glimmer throws her glass against the wall and it shatters into a million sharp fragments.


	6. chapter vi irredescent

She may have scored high but she also has just made herself a big flashing target for the rest of us. And whatever she did during that training session, it couldn't possibly compare to the rest of us. Cato can cut through her with his eyes closed. Clove can throw knives from fifteen feet away, and hit perfectly on target. Spears make me deadly at any distance.

Glimmer can shoot straight nine out of ten times, even though she's not that great. So what makes Katniss so dangerous? It's not that the audience likes her. Not anymore. Maybe she does have a talent in some sort of weapon. Maybe it's just cause she's from District Twelve, and she's different. I wish I knew. It's eating away at me so much that I lose focus when Gloss asks me one of the fake interview questions. "Sorry, what?"

He presses his hand to his forehead. "Look, you have to pay attention. This is your final night here and you can't afford to mess anything up."

"I know, I know. Ask me the question again."

He sighs. "Never mind. I've asked enough already. Just make them like you, kid. You're funny, maybe that'll be enough for you. This is your last chance, you know."

"Yeah. I know." I sigh deeply. "And if my score had been better, this wouldn't matter as much, right?"

Gloss shakes his head. "Your score was fine, kid. Stop worrying about it. That's the opposite of what you need to be. Be carefree, like you always are when I usually ask you to be serious."

I'm not worrying about my score. But maybe a little, because I should have scored higher than Glimmer and I didn't. I didn't. I push back my chair and wait, going through my mind what I had to do. I couldn't be fierce because I didn't have the look for it. But I'd be fierce in the arena. For now, I had to be something different. _Be witty. Funny. Carefree. Confident. Cool. Very relaxed. Look like you know what you're doing._Gloss had been badgering me all day about it. Vesper taught me what I already knew: manners. How to shake hands and how to have the right posture. But he didn't want me totally stiff. I take a deep breath. I can't believe that this is all that's left before the actual Games.

The next morning, I'm groomed by the prep team until late in the afternoon. Aurelia and Vita bicker constantly, but I shut them out and wait until they're completely done with me. The only thing that I respond to is when Silvius slips the ring off my finger. I feel myself go cold. "Do you want to keep this on?"

"Uh, yeah. It's my tribute token; my brother gave it to me." I take it back and shove it back on my finger, not having time to wonder whether I meant Sheen or Faustus. The next few hours fly by, and before I know it I'm in a lavish suit, almost looking like I do belong in the Capitol. Bright and vivid colors that catch the eye like gemstones. A gold watch encrusted with sapphires and rubies. A shout-out to my district.

The stage, which is built in front of the Training Center, is where the interviews will take place. I take a deep breath and meet up with everyone else at the elevator. Vesper, Gloss, and Cashmere look stunning as well. But Glimmer most of all. Bet it wasn't hard to come across an angle for her. Vesper was right.

She plays it off so well, with a translucent dress that wraps around her lush curves. Her sleek, bouncy hair rolls down her back like honey. Her deep green eyes are highlighted with a golden shimmer that matches her dress. It doesn't take her long to realize that I'm staring. I look away quickly, but not in time to miss the way her cheeks redden.

We line up and walk onto the stage to take our seats. There's not much time to talk to Cato or Clove while we wait, but Cato gives Glimmer and I an angry look as if to say "What did I tell you?" Because all of us are wondering how she got that eleven, and Glimmer is pissed. Maybe they're right. Maybe she is a threat. Or maybe they're both just being foolish.

Glimmer is first. She walks off, but before she goes, I grab her hand on an impulse and hang on for a moment to look at her green eyes. They flicker at me cagily. "Good luck," I say under my breath.

She pulls away from me and a ghost of a smile crosses her lips. "Thanks."

Three minutes and I'm up. I get up and brush off my suit, take a deep breath and walk out. I suddenly see Glimmer returning from her interview. The moment she sees me, she lets her eyes rise and fall. She says something, but I can barely hear her over the crowd; but she squeezes my hand for an instant, pulling me and finally letting go.

I don't have time to think because I'm suddenly in a dream. Under bright lights that make me sweat. But I'm numb. Cameras flash like stars from the immense crowd as I step up and shake hands with Caesar. Suddenly everything falls to a hush and it all comes back to me. "Welcome! Marvel from District One," Caesar says. "Tell us about yourself, we want to know. You volunteered. Was there a reason why?"

I pause, letting out a laugh even though it's nowhere near humorous. I feel a chill come over me. Why did I volunteer? Because my father wanted me to? Because my mother didn't want me to? Because I… because I was supposed to.

"I thought I could win." The words fall from my lips carelessly. I shrug.

"And you've been training for this your entire life?"

"Yeah." I want to lighten the atmosphere, so I lean back and laugh. "So it had better be worth it."

Caesar laughs as well and so does the audience, despite my lack of humor. "And yet, one thing about you that I find especially refreshing is that you're so carefree. With all this stress, we've never seen another tribute quite like that."

I shrug, and wink at the cameras. "I'm one of a kind."

"And just how do you keep so calm?"

I lean forward and put on a playfully serious face. "Well, you see, Caesar, my father owns a vineyard..." The crowd breaks out in hysterical laughter as Caesar stares at me, nodding very slowly.

"Yes, yes. I see." When the laughter dies down, he draws attention to my watch. "And is this your tribute token?" He examines it in awe, while the audience admires. "And real sapphire! I just _love_that blue color."

"I knew you would," I joke, earning another laugh from the audience.

"Well, you should know I enjoy my shades of blue," Caesar laughs.

"Oh, I know. But, actually, it's not," I continue. "It's a nice watch, though."

He points to the silver ring on my finger. "Is that it, then?"

I nod and Caesar laughs. "Oh, all right. Who gave it to you? Maybe a sweetheart back in District One?" He lifts an eyebrow mischievously, and the audience howls with amusement. But all I can think about was the fleeting, tragic way Glimmer's eyes darted to mine when she thought I wasn't looking.

He's hitting all my weak points. But I have to keep acting like I'm enjoying it. Relax. I let out a loud laugh and lean back. "Actually, my younger brother."

"Ah. So he looks up to you?"

Sheen… looking up to me? I don't know. I don't think. I look over at Caesar and lean back against the chair, looking completely unruffled, completely calm. "Yeah, he thinks I can win." It's a straight-up lie. I hold my breath slightly. "And I won't let him down. I'm completely, totally ready. I'm pumped for this." I look to the cameras with a big smile on my face, my cheeks aching. I even wave optimistically. "Can he see me right now?"

Caesar barks laughter. "He can see you!" he chuckles, and holds out his hand as we both stand up. Shaking hands, just like I did with Glimmer during the Reaping. "Good luck, Marvel from District One!"

I let out a wild shout, throw out my arms and earn another round of applause from the crowd. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders as I walk off the stage, almost running into Clove.

She smirks and pins me with her dark gaze. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I say carelessly. I didn't need to impress them, did I? Be carefree. Don't give a fuck.

* * *

I spend the rest of the night sitting by my window and staring out into the darkness. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The streets are filled with Capitol people, wild parades. I hope some of them are calling my name. I hope some of them are rooting for me. I close my eyes for a moment, pulling my knees up to my shoulders. I did look like I took it all… as a joke. Did I? Was I taking it like a joke? Maybe it is a joke. One big perverse joke. I twist my hands together.

"Can't sleep?"

I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of Glimmer's voice, and turn to see her walking toward me. She's wearing a thin, light purple gown that falls off her shoulders slightly, just enough... I feel more restless now. I look back out into the streets, pretending not to notice as she sits next to me. I give a short, humorless laugh. "Not really." I pause. "Why are you up?

Her silence reveals her surprise at my restless tone. "I… I just am."

"Yeah? Well."

A few moments past. I twist my fingers discontentedly.

"I can't sleep, either." She says lamely.

We sit in silence for a few moments in the darkness, the cool air spreading goosebumps across my arms. I don't want to talk. There's nothing to say.

"How did you do with the interview?" she asks quietly.

"I don't know." I shrug. "Fine."

"Mine was okay." She pauses. "But you know, it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is how we do in the arena."

I nod stiffly and look away from her. _Yeah, I'm supposed to kill you. I'm not supposed to talk to you. We weren't supposed to kiss._I get up and brush myself off. "I'm going to head back, I guess."

"Wait…"

I turn in surprise at Glimmer's voice. "What?"

"Stay. I want to talk," she whispers.

I just stand there, glued to the floor. "We're not supposed to."

"What do you mean?"

I sigh and look down at my shoes. "We're not supposed to talk to each other, Glimmer. We're not supposed to like each other."

"I never said I liked you." Her voice is clipped, cool.

A few awkward moments pass and I finally look up at her, unable to speak. Feeling foolish. Feeling my face flush as I rub the back of my neck. "I'm… just saying," I murmur, my voice breaking. Saying what? What am I saying? I shake my head and look back down, turning again to walk away.

"Look, just wait. I want to talk to you."

I heave a heavy sigh and reluctantly turn around, unable to meet her gaze as I sit back down. "What is there to talk about?" I say, my voice cold.

"Just stay."

We sit again, wrapped in the silence of the night. A few cheers in the distance, some red and gold fireworks that crackle in the dim, steely sky up ahead. Why does she want my company? I am nothing to her. She is nothing to me. It's torture. She's torturing me by making me stay with her. I sigh softly and then notice the tears sparkling in her eyes, under the moonlight. I feel my heart constrict because if I say something, I'm heartless, but if I don't, I'm heartless. "You okay?" I ask her, trying to push concern out of my throat. Why should there be concern anyway? There shouldn't.

She turns her glittering eyes toward mine and then draws her finger delicately across, turning away and looking down. Dabbing her eyes. "I…" she chokes. "You know, they took my tribute token away."

She's crying about that, over all things. I shake my head, remembering the large gem-encrusted ring. It had been beautiful, but apparently it hadn't passed the board. "Why would they do that?" She suddenly leans on her arm, and her hand goes over mine. I pretend I don't notice, but I can't keep my mind off it. Why is she doing this? Talking to me? I dig my other hand into my skin, and it stings like a bug bite.

"Because…" she chokes bitterly and then shakes her head, pushing her palm into her forehead. "They found poison inside the spike. They said it could be used as a weapon in the arena." She sucks in a shuddering breath. "That was the only thing I had left of home. And now it's gone. I didn't even know about the damn poison, or the… the spike."

I shrug numbly, wanting to tear my hand away from under her warm skin. _Don't. You can pretend to be kind, but you can't feel anything._It was pretty damn hard not to feel anything. My hand felt hot, itching as it met hers. "Maybe they'll give it back after the Games," I say carelessly, not implying whether or not it would be she who won. A hollow feeling strikes me like the cool night air.

"Give it back?" she says bitterly. "To who? My mourning parents?"

I shrug again, having a feeling that we've talked about this before. "Maybe not. Maybe you'll win." The words come out harsher than I intend, and I'm sure she's not wondering why. Because if she wins, then I die.

A few more moments pass. "Do you have a tribute token?" Her voice has been carried down a few more octaves, but she has stopped crying.

"Yeah." I shift my hand underneath hers, exposing the silver ring. Left hand, middle finger. I slip it off carefully and place it in her outstretched, open palm.

She looks at it for a few moments, twisting it in her fingers. She must think it's very plain compared to her own. Of course it passed the boards. It's only a small, simple metal ring. "Who gave it to you?"

My stomach clenches. I might as well tell her the truth. "Uh, my brother." I pause and slip the ring back onto my finger. "My younger brother, Sheen. He must have found it in a drawer or something. It's been in a drawer ever since." I pause and press my fingers in between my eyes.

"Ever since what?"

"…Ever since… my older brother killed himself." I say the words quietly, clenching my jaw and trying to hide the pain.

"I'm sorry." She places one of her hands on my shoulders, and I immediately want to shrug away at her touch, but I don't. Still, why should she be sorry? She doesn't know me, she didn't know him. Her apology is empty.

"He's the one who made it for me, you know," I continue quietly. "He worked in a jeweler's shop. He made it for me when I was thirteen. He told my father he was going to volunteer, but then… then he never did." I fall silent.

I can tell that Glimmer is slowly putting the pieces together, making me feel vulnerable. "And that's why you volunteered."

Why am I revealing all my secrets to her? I shrug and push her hand off. "I volunteered because I wanted to win. And I still do," I say with a hard tone.

Glimmer goes quiet, her voice flat. "We all want to win, Marvel." She pauses for a few moments. "But I mean, you... I never would've guessed... I mean, you're just laughing all the time. So relaxed and confident. Like you really, truly believe you're going to win."

I can't help but let out a laugh. "Maybe I will." I guess she's right... I haven't felt nervous this whole time. Well, I mean… sometimes. But I _will_win. How hard could it be? I sigh, a little curious. "So if you're so interested in me, why haven't we talked before this?"

"Because I never knew you before this. And because..." She shrugs her shoulders, blonde hair cascading over them, and looks away. "It could be my last chance, I guess."

The truth once again kicks me in the gut. Hard.

Our gazes meet. Within her sparkling green eyes is a spectrum of thoughts and emotions too deep for me to read. But one is very prominent, easy to detect: fear. I see fear in her eyes. I wonder what she sees in mine. My stomach twists and my heart flutters cagily.

"Besides," she continues after many moments, pulling her eyes back to the distant fireworks and stealing the breath from my longs. "I've talked to you before."

"Oh, yeah? When?" I ask her, winded.

"When we were ten. We were playing one of those mock Games. It was in the summer. And it was a warm evening, and there were all these fireflies. We all had these wooden swords." She laughs slightly, and the memory flashes through my mind, bringing a wave of nostalgia over me. The fireflies. The warm breeze. The crickets. It brought me to a simple world where death wasn't painful, and killing wasn't real. "But anyway, I saw you crouched in the bushes. You were about to leap out at some other boy and I snuck up on you."

"And what did you say to me?"

"I said, 'gotcha!' And then I did. I just poked you with my sword, and then you made a big deal of falling to the ground and twitching. Do you remember?"

I vaguely remember the scene. "That was you?" I say, laughing. "Funny, I remember a boy."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Glimmer says sarcastically, pushing my knee.

I am suddenly brought back to reality, and the air becomes heavy once again. Our escape into memories didn't last very long, and the thick, sweet nostalgia fades like a drug. We're going to have to kill each other; why am I letting her grow on me like this? She's only doing this to me because she wants to fool me like Cato. Does she really think that a shared memory will make me spare her in the arena? I try to forge all my emotions into detachment. It's really quite fucking difficult, when you feel all warm inside for no good reason.

But I can still play pretend.

Not thinking about it, not thinking at all, I press my lips into hers, a lingering kiss, and then pull away and look down like I forgot something. And then I try to hold back a smile before I leave; only getting a hasty glimpse of her wide eyes before I go. "Goodnight, Glimmer."


	7. chapter vii ruthless

I am standing on the circular platform, my heart racing. One step forward and I'm blown to bits. My stomach clenches, adrenaline pulses in every sinew, deep down to the marrow of my bones. Sixty seconds. Just sixty seconds feels like forever.

As the gong rings, something snaps inside of me. I'm running before I even know it, adrenaline tearing through my veins, and head toward the spear to grab it swiftly. Yet something else glints in the bright sunlight from the corner of my vision. I whip around to find that the District Six girl is running toward me with a sword between her white knuckles. I strike her fiercely and she falls, trying to back away from me on the ground. I bring my spear down hard into her stomach without a thought. She shrieks, and I dig in harder until she stops.

She coughs hot blood. I kick her down and grab her sword, when I realize that District Nine is attempting to grab a pack of silver spears: my spears. When she sees me charging her, fear flickers in her eyes and she drops them and sprints, but I seize her and slit her throat automatically with the sword. She gives a sickly cry and collapses with eyes rolled back. From the corner of my blurred, spinning world, I see Katniss fleeing into the forest with an orange bag and I become rigid.

I catch a glimpse of the District Three girl running past me; instinctively, I grab her arm, pull her close and twist a knife into her side as hard as I can. She tears away from me, clutching her stomach, which is spurting blood. Her face is flushed, her eyes bugging out. Dead eyes. I pull her to the ground and hack away at her with my spear, over and over again, trembling. Blood-curdling screams surround me, electrify me.

Terrify me.

Ahead of me, I catch a glimpse of Cato bring an axe down onto District Six boy's leg; dark blood flies everywhere, splattering nearby cases. Cato's shout echoes in my mind: "You stole my knife!" He pulls back; watching as District Six screams and clutches his amputated leg, a pool of dark blood forming around him.

Suddenly, the District Nine boy collides with Cato, who grasps his shoulder, says something, and then pushes him away. He falls limply, and Cato holds a bloody sword which I know has just impaled District Nine in the stomach.

Something flashes in the corner of my eye: Glimmer, pinned onto the little girl from District 11, the knife above her head ready to plunge into the tiny tribute's stomach. But her hand is shaking. She can't do it.

The din of metal cutting flesh turns me back around, makes me cold and stiff. District Five is slashing at the District Three girl. He slashes a long sword viciously and tosses her aside, but when he looks up and when he realizes who I am, his eyes widen with pure terror. He is on the verge of fleeing, and I am on the verge of killing him, when someone– I think it's the District Eight male –runs past and then attacks him, grabbing his neck and throttling him before slamming his head into a supply case several times in an alarming display of strength.

Before I can pull out my own spear to kill one of them, I see him grab a spear and he nearly runs into Thresh, who pushes him violently and knocks away his spear and hits him in the throat with a sword in one swift, deadly motion before dashing into the thick forest.

Then, silence.

Breathing heavily and shaking, I look around at the blood-spattered bodies strewn among the field, and I wipe the wet knife on my shirt unsteadily. I can still hear my heart beating. I begin to walk, stepping over bodies, the metallic scent of blood making me light-headed. Near the Cornucopia, I see Cato pulling his sword from the District Six male's chest and kicking him away with his boot. He must have finished him off finally, after he had bled for so long. How humane.

"Cato," I call.

He turns to me, his face smeared with blood, and his eyes are wild. He holds up his sword as though he forgets who I am. He charges.

Alarmed, I whip out my blade and bound away just to see him slice at someone, who falls to the ground with a pained grunt. In his hand, he held a dagger. I understand vaguely that Cato just saved my life.

"Relax," Cato tells me with a smile, but there is no warmth. He starts to play with his slick, blood-slathered sword. He swings it in circles.

"Nice one," I say, managing a weak laugh. I let my blade drop to my side, not wanting him to know how little I trust him. "Do you know who's dead?"

He looks down at the boy and brings his knife down into his chest firmly, giving a laugh. "All I know is that District Nine ran right into me. Poor little bastard." It's not easy to tell whether or not he's putting on an act or he actually enjoys killing them, but his laugh is unsettling. As he pulls the sword out with one hand. I remember the fear in their gazes; their faces before I plunged the spear into them. Yet I try to forget it so it doesn't bother me. To me, it's a reflex. For Cato, it's like breathing. But it's in both of us to kill. We were raised for it.

Cato turns to see something and he suddenly raises his sword. I turn to see Peeta, and shock almost makes me take a step back.

"Wait," he says, holding up his hands. It's hard not to thrust my spear into him right now. His stupid show for Panem; his publicized love confession for Katniss. It makes me sick.

"Why?" Cato shoots back, extending the sword with one hand and the other pointing toward Peeta. "Give me one reason not to kill you." He thrusts his sword out, muscles taut. Peeta flinches. "Now!"

"I want to join the Career Alliance."

What? How could he want to join us? He's from District Twelve! Suddenly, I realize something, below my boiling hatred. If we allow Peeta to join us, then we can find Katniss. I glance at Cato.

He spits in Peeta's direction. "You think that just because you scored high, you're good enough to join us? Huh, lover boy?" He begins toward him, and Peeta backs up.

"Whoa, wait. Cato, hold up a minute," I say. "Let him join."

He turns his head toward me and meets my gaze. I can tell that he understands from the expression in his dark eyes. But he's very reluctant. He must really want to kill him, too. He's such an easy target right now. Either way, he lowers the sword slowly and tosses his head at Peeta, jabbing it at him one last time. "You make one move and I gut you. Got it?" he yells, his voice vicious. He means it, too. I think Peeta knows this. If he doesn't, then he's even denser than he looks.

I suddenly see Glimmer, Clove, and the District Four girl. The moment they catch sight of him, they whip out their weapons and dash toward him.

"Stop," Cato demands, making them halt in their tracks. "He's with us."

Clove and Glimmer look at each other in bewilderment. Clove tries to meet Cato's gaze, longing for an explanation, but he turns away and exchanges glances with me. "Let's set up camp, and see who's still alive."

I watch Peeta carefully. I know that he scored high; he's still not as dangerous as Katniss. That's who we need to kill. Peeta can help us with that, or at least help us find her, and then we kill him. Suddenly, I hear the cannons boom to report the dead tributes. Eleven; I think I count eleven.

I can't help but look at Glimmer. She was going to kill Rue. But her hand shook. She couldn't bring herself to do it. My thoughts race back to the Reaping, our days spent in the Capitol. She had volunteered. But she can't kill. And I kill so easily, without thinking. Because you can't think about it… you can't feel anything or else it gets in the way. A chill runs through my spine. Glimmer can't kill. I'm about to move when I hear Cato shouting angrily from ahead.

I jog forward to see that he's cornered the District Three boy– the boy that reminds me of Sheen –sword pressed to his neck. He's about to draw blood when the boy shouts something; I can't hear it but Cato pulls away, crouches, and smirks with the dry blood cracking on his cheeks.

I walk closer, and stop next to Clove. "What's happening?"

"Cato was pissed because he saw him stealing stuff. He was going to kill him but then the boy said that he could help us." Her brow furrows and her splintered lips form a hard line. "I don't know why but I think Cato is going to let him. Must have something in mind. He doesn't seem so happy about it, though."

"No surprise. We just had to let Peeta join."

"I was going to ask about that. Shouldn't we kill him?"

"We can use him to find her."

She nods. "Yeah," she murmurs. "We can use lover-boy."

"But why didn't you kill her in the first place?" I ask. "Too fast for you?" A bit of dark humor creeps into my voice. The image of Katniss fleeing appears in my mind, mocking me. Just like the flashing 11.

Clove's smile weakens and she scowls, her breath quivering. She looks up at me a little angrily. She grits her teeth. "Next time, she's dead. I swear. She's dead."

I turn back to Cato and see that he's walking away from District Three, who is sitting with his back pressed to the Cornucopia and his hands clasped to his knees. He is about fourteen; he has ashen skin and murky eyes, with dark tousled hair and a cut across his dirty face. I come up to him and he flinches. I look at him for a moment. "So… have a name?"

He just trembles, and meets my eyes for a split second.

"I'm Marvel."

"I already knew that," he murmurs.

"I bet you did." I pause when I realize that I killed the girl from his district, the one that he worried so much about when she cut herself during training. Without another word, I come over to Cato. They're packing up the supplies. I put my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. "What did you say to that kid, Cato? You scared the piss out of him." I laugh, even though nothing's funny.

Cato continues packing supplies without looking at me. "Come on, get moving, Marvel." He suddenly throws me a heavy black bag. I barely catch it. "Light some torches. We're going to the lake tonight."

"Why?" I say, in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood… well, heavy for a reason, but still. "Aw, are we going swimming?" I gasp in mock excitement.

"Stop joking around." Cato gives me a dark look and I sigh exaggeratedly, carrying the heavy bag away and lighting a torch so that the burning fire illuminates through the darkness. I guess I really shouldn't be laughing or joking around… suddenly the heel of my shoe catches on something thick and I look back. I jump out of my skin. I just stepped on the District Six boy's amputated leg. Part of it, anyway. My stomach turns and I back off slowly, my heart thumping. Dead bodies everywhere.

"I don't know when they're going to take them away," a voice murmurs.

I spin around to see her face in the indigo darkness. "You need to stop sneaking up on me like that, Glimmer."

She smiles weakly, her face pale. "Why, scared?"

"No, but I might accidentally stab you or something." I scuff my shoe in the grass furiously, unable to forget the sensation of stepping on that boy's leg… my stomach twists and I look down at the blood-spattered grass. I swing the bag over my back and hold the torch between us. Glimmer. I hate seeing her next to me in this death trap.

"Wouldn't want that, would we?" she mutters.

No, I wouldn't.

* * *

The lake reflects the artificial sky of the arena as everyone sits by a large, crackling fire. Clove watches as I crouch down to empty the heavy bag, keeping a few knives, two extra spear heads, flashlight, fruit and a bottle of water. As I put in a ridiculously small first-aid kit, she snorts. "What's that for?"

I look back at her, pretending to be serious. "Oh, you know, emergencies. In case I step on a thorn, or get a paper-cut, or something."

Even in the darkness, I can see her smirking. I pull the bag over my shoulder and we walk over to the fire, where I drop it on the ground. "This is mine," I proclaim in jest. "You hear? Mine! No one touches it. This bag is mine." I can't seem to make anyone laugh tonight, but I hate the solemnness.

"No one's going to touch your bag, Marvel," Clove mutters.

"That's what they all say."

"If you love it so much, go put it where it belongs," Cato tells me. Glimmer is nestled against his chest, the warm firelight flickering off their faces. It makes me cringe for some reason.

"So you can steal it?" I move it even closer to me. "No way." I look at Peeta, who is staring at me like I am insane. He is sitting on the other side of the fire, away from us. I still can't believe he joined us… why did he do it? Why did he betray Katniss? It doesn't matter. It's a stroke of luck for us.

Soon, the tribute's faces light up in the sky. Both from District Six, District Nine, District Seven, along with the District Three girl, District Five boy, District Four boy, District Eight boy, and District Ten girl.

Cato signals for Clove to hand him one of her knives; he begins to draw an organized graph in the dirt, crossing out the dead tributes' district numbers with precision. When he's done, he holds up Clove's dagger and looks up at everyone, the fiery glow on his bloody face. "The District 5 female, the District 8 female, the boy from District 10, the tributes from District 11, and Katniss are still alive." He purposely glances at Peeta when he says this.

"So what's the plan?" I ask.

"Lover-boy helps us find Katniss," Cato said.

"…And we kill the rest," Glimmer finished, giving him a coy smirk.

Cato looks over at her and smiles, running his hand up her thigh. Making my skin itch. "Yeah," he says in a low, seductive voice. I'm glad when Clove clears her throat, stopping him.

"I want an exact plan," she demands, dark eyes on Cato and freckled face sulky. "I want to know who we'll kill, in order."

Cato looks at her murderously and I can see him working his jaw. "Tomorrow we set out, and Three guards the camp." The boy looks up from the ground and quickly meets Cato's burning gaze before turning away again. I don't know why Cato is leaving him alone, but I'm sure he's got something planned. "We find District Ten and the little girl from District Eleven."

I can't help but look at Glimmer when he mentions the girl from Eleven.

"The biggest threat I see is Thresh," the District Four girl pipes up, curving the edge of her knife along the ground and brushing strands of black hair off her face.

I remember him killing District Eight with swift precision, and I nod. "Yeah. Did you see the way he stabbed Eight? Damn," I mutter.

"District Five is clever, too," Glimmer mentions.

"We'll find and kill them all," Cato says, turning his eyes contemptuously toward Clove. "Does that make you happy?"

She gets up brusquely and turns to go toward the tents. "We'll need our sleep for tomorrow, then." Without another word, she's gone.

"Exactly how many tents are there?" I rub the back of my neck. "Cause I'm not sharing one with Clove. She'll stab me in my sleep," I say half-jokingly.

"Six," Cato says.

"Six? There's seven of us."

"We only need six. District Three is guarding," Cato explains, looking at the District Three boy and then back at me. "You can have your own tents. I'll have to share one with Glimmer."

He makes it sound like it's my fault that he _has_to share one with Glimmer. I stiffen for some reason, and offer him a smile that feels cold. "Oh, look at you. Sacrificing yourself," I murmur, fumbling with my bag nonchalantly. I look back up to see a look so venomous in Cato's eyes that it chills me to the bone.

* * *

I lay in my tent for what seems like forever. I can't sleep so there's no use trying. When I walk out of the tent, my eyes blurry, I come to see the District Three boy staring up at the sky. "Awake?" I mutter. He suddenly turns and points a knife at me, breathing heavily. I hold my hands up. "Marvel," I whisper. He relaxes slightly and turns around again to look at the dark gray night. His face is pale and his arm is dripping fresh blood. It gleams like ruby in the dim watery light.

"What?" he slurs in a raspy voice, turning to me with dark distrustful eyes. "Oh… my arm…?" I catch a glimpse of silver as he picks up a glistening wet knife. "That's how I keep myself awake. When I close my eyes I'm home, when I open them I'm here. I keep falling asleep. But I have to stay awake."

I stare at him. He's been cutting himself to stay awake? I shake my head and sit down next to him. "You shouldn't do that; you'll lose a lot of blood. Hold on." I get up and go to get the first aid kit. As I'm walking back toward him, I pause for a moment. Why the hell am I being so nice to this kid? Because he reminds me of Sheen? I stiffen as I sit next to him again and toss a roll of gauze at him. "You can wrap it yourself, right?" I say, trying to harden my voice.

I see him struggling, and after a while I can't take it. I seize the gauze, take his wrist and wrap it tightly against his arm. "Don't do this again." I pause. "We need you. You're a Career now, and we don't do stupid stuff like this. Just push through it, kid." I pause for a moment. I sound like Gloss. I tear the strip and then press it down hard on his arm so it sticks. My eyes are on his the entire time, and he tries to hold back the pain and the tears. Just like Sheen.

I can't help but smirk a bit. "You don't have to be a hardass like Cato; I'm just saying you have to be strong to survive."

I don't miss the amused smile on his face as I get up. Maybe I can take the second shift for him… _Don't._ I turn and then look back for a moment, wiping the look off my face completely so he doesn't get the wrong impression. "Now guard, or else."


End file.
